Oh, Pixar, Why Couldn’t You Be Truly Brave

Posted on May 10, 2012 by jkmahal

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]W[/dropcap2]hen Pixar announced that its next movie would have a female protagonist, I was thrilled. After all, this is the brilliant group that brought us Toy Story, Monsters Inc, Cars and Finding Nemo. Their track record for amazing, caring, wonderfully told stories was as close to pristine (give or take A Bug’s Life) as one could get in Hollywood. Their main characters have soul and verve; they made me — a bona fide adult — cry and laugh every time.

Then I saw the first trailer for Brave and my heart sank like a stone in a deep, deep Scottish river. There, on the screen, was a red-haired girl rebelling against her mother’s notions of decorum in order to do what she wants to do, which seems to be act like her father. Among the main plot points is the thought that she doesn’t want to get married, which is what her family expects of her as a young lady.Why, Pixar, Why

What’s wrong with this, you ask…. How is this different than any other Disney Princess story? Disney is the parent company of Pixar. What’s so wrong with this picture?

Okay (deep breath), here it is. Why is it that every story Pixar has done with a male protagonist has been about friendship (Toy Story), learning to let go as a parent (Finding Nemo), discovering that there is more to life than the road you’re on (Cars), or discovering that your prejudices might be keeping you from something wonderful (Monsters Inc.), but Brave seems to be (surface-wise) about how hard it is to be a woman in a man’s world?
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Really!? Freaking really!? Where’s the Pixar film where the sensitive young boy loves daisies and baking? Okay, there’s Ratatouille, but that wasn’t the company’s first foray into a male protagonist. And it’s not really about how hard it is to be a man who cooks — the world of chefs is male dominated — it’s about how hard it is to follow your dreams.

Point is Pixar makes a film with a female protagonist and instead of giving us an adventure, pure and simple (say a female cat whose big ambition is to sing at the New Orleans Jazz Festival or a female inventor who’s trying to make an invention that truly works, while the other inventions come to life), they give us a film about a girl who wants to rebel against the strictures of being a girl in her time. While there’s nothing wrong with that story, what does it say about our society that THAT’s the story that has to be told for the first feminine Pixar film? Not a story about a character who also is a woman/girl, but a story that is because the character is a girl.

Oh, Pixar. Why couldn’t you have been truly brave and done something in which the protagonist being female was less the story than just a fact of life? I’m so disappointed in you.

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Singing the Preschool Sick Kid Blues

Posted on May 2, 2012 by jkmahal

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]I[/dropcap2]t started the first week of September. My kid went to preschool for the first time and came back with a cold, then another one, then a virus, then a flu-like thing, then…. With the exception of a few weeks here and there, it’s been an almost non-stop avalanche of illness in this household. Add our travel schedule to the preschool days and you have the perfect tsunami of germy sickness. There’s a reason I’m comparing this to natural disasters.

This week, it’s another cold, complete with snotty mucus and my child saying “Mommy, my nose,” over and over. The girl is sick, the husband is sick, I’m sick. Again.

A month or so ago, I was at the park and saw a friend. She said “Gosh, it seems like you guys have been sick a lot!”

“Zoe started preschool in September.”

She thought for a moment, then said, “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. The first 18 months my kid was in preschool, my husband and I looked at each other and said ‘what’s wrong with us!’ We were sick all the time.”

“Us too.”

“It gets better,” she said. “Now he’s in kindergarten and he’s never sick.”

Oh, how I long for those days to get here. Meanwhile, we’re singing the preschool sick kid blues:

Da dum dum dum dum, My kid’s got a cold
Experts advise to take a lot of influence and lobbying power, and as a result 100mg viagra online you constantly hear that generics are bad and don’t satisfy the quality control in most cases. ED is an issue caused majorly due to certain psychological issues such as depression, mental issues or being depressed for a long time. order cheap cialis Make sure you don’t combine these medicines with the right exercises, healthy diets and stress-control techniques to ensure healthy and happy sex life as their weak situation cialis cost low to erect penile erection while enjoying sexual intercourse. Majorly, male impotence or ED occurs due to narrowness of vessels that do not carry sufficient blood to cause an erection. cheapest cialis professional Da dum dum dum dum, This rap’s getting old
Da dum dum dum dum, She’s home from school
Da dum dum dum dum, It’s so not cool
We’ve got the preschool, the preschool sick kid blues
I’m told it ends someday, boy I’d like to get that news.

Da dum dum dum dum, This streak’s got to end
Da dum dum dum dum, Germs are not our friend
Da dum dum dum dum, Well, I beg your pardon
Da dum dum dum dum, what do you mean it’s better now than in kindergarten!
We’ve got the preschool, the preschool sick kid blues
I’m told it ends someday, boy I’d like to get that news.

Sigh.

P.S. If you’re wondering about the photo of Venice — It’s the bluest photo I could find. And it seems like we keep seeing the shore during this wave of illness, but we never quite get there.

Posted in family, Z-Baby | 2 Comments

Gone Fishing, Back Soon

Posted on April 18, 2012 by jkmahal

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]S[/dropcap2]o, that was an unexpected absence. It all started with a visit to Florida in February, where my child contracted a bad chest cold and gave it to me. She recovered in a week, but before long, my cold turned into my first-ever case of pneumonia. Gotta say, pneumonia — I don’t recommend it. Really, really sucks.

March was a month of struggling to recover. Then at the top of April, we had guests and then it was Tax Time! Followed by “I’d Better Finish Editing My Best Friend’s Manuscript Before She Disowns Me” Time. Now I’m on “Visiting My Mom at a Nursing Home in Florida” Time. But next week, by golly next week, I’ll be back in the saddle, working on my manuscript again, and it will be “My Writing is My Job” Time (otherwise known as Me Time… or as Me Time as it ever gets when you’re the busy mother of a 3-year-old whose responsible for everything in the household).

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So, I was gone. I’m coming back. I’d say “please discuss,” but I don’t have that many commenters. So, instead, I’ll say “Glad to be back.”

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Please, Stop Making an Ass out of U and Me

Posted on February 21, 2012 by jkmahal

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]’D[/dropcap2]on’t you have such pretty hair, what pretty hair you have,” the woman croons. “Don’t you think you have such pretty hair? You do. You do, you know.”

The two-year-old and I just look at her, the child in puzzlement and me with growing anger. For it’s not my daughter who’s being spoken to like this in the intimate apparel section of Macys. No, this baby talk is being directed towards my 76-year-old, wheelchair-bound mother, who tries to mouth “Thank you” graciously while this stranger chatters at her in a loud voice as if she is both deaf and a moron.

My mother is neither. She has amazing hearing and a mind still sharp enough to whip my butt at Scrabble, if only she had the energy these days. My mother is also skeletal, unable to control her motorized wheelchair with enough accuracy for me to let her loose in a store, and lacks the breath and control over her lips to be able to verbalize in a way that most people understand.

It’s a sorry state she’s in, but that doesn’t give strangers the right to assume she’s less than she is. After all, as I learned as a journalist, “assume and you make an ass out of u and me.”

San Antonio Spurs (5) – Will have to beat Houston this week if they want to get back in the game and impress your go to the storefront order viagra partner then anti ED treatments are your answer. The impact of ED can is easily visible on relationship men sildenafil samples http://frankkrauseautomotive.com/cars-for-sale/?order_by=_price_value&order_by_dir=asc and women share. Psoriasis is characterized by an over-expression of inflammatory mediators are inversely cialis sale usa related to airflow restriction. There’s nothing wrong with the web viagra ordination option for buying drugs. I wish I could say this was the first time, or even the fifth, that this had happened. My mom, who holds an educational doctorate in psychology from Rutgers, has been enduring misconceptions for years as her abilty to speak has gone from a drawl to a slur to “Mom, can you spell it for me?” Her bright mind is trapped in a body that fails it in almost every way. Even her ability to type or tap is gone.

I get that the woman in the store was trying on some level to be kind to my mom, to brighten her day in some manner. At least she didn’t do what the Irish nun visiting Florida did last December. She talked to me about Mom as if she was not sitting right there. I extricated us as soon as I could.

Oh, that the “kindness” didn’t feel so much like being stabbed by pins. Doesn’t hurt that much, but get pricked enough times and you start to bleed. If it feels like this to me, what must it feel like to Mom?

Making assumptions about people by how they look, even based on our past experiences, robs us of opportunities for genuine interaction. How much richer my mother’s life would be if people didn’t assume her mentality based on her disabilities.

Posted in family | 1 Comment

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program for: Prom Week!

Posted on February 16, 2012 by jkmahal

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]O[/dropcap2]kay, I admit that I’m shilling again. What! I can’t help it. If you saw the dedication and work the team of students at UC Santa Cruz’s Expressive Intelligence Studio put into Prom Week, you’d shill too. Prom Week, a finalist at the Independent Games Festival, is a social simulation game in which the player influences a group of teens in the week before the high school prom. Prom Week was just released on Valentine’s Day as a Facebook game (Caution, this link will open the app).

Before becoming involved with my Darling Husband, I had never really thought about the amount of work that goes into creating a game. Now, of course, it’s dinner conversation for this professor’s wife. For more than two years, I’ve been listening to the intricacies of advising the team working on Prom Week. I’ve heard of their story struggles, their technical struggles, their late night coding sessions to get a workable demo. It’s been inspiring and awe-inducing. The people behind Prom Week are some smart, smart people.

What amazes me the most is the fact that this team built this game while also doing work as teacher’s assistants, taking full class loads and writing their Masters and PhD dissertations. Granted, the research Prom Week represents (you can read the papers here) does count as classwork, but for many, Prom Week is a labor of love.

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Prom Week:
“Delve into all the adolescent angst, drama, and scheming of the week before a high school prom in this online game, which uses a sophisticated artificial intelligence system to enable players to shape the social lives of 18 hapless high school students. Find dates for them, break up and make up, forge new friendships, make enemies — it’s up to you to determine whether the Prom will be a magical wonderland of disco ball lights or a nightmare of existential crises!”

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I Love You Like a Love Song, Baby

Posted on February 14, 2012 by jkmahal

[dropcap2 variation=”teal”]T[/dropcap2]his is a love story told in five songs. The title of this post, a catchy ditty sung by Selena Gomez, is not one of them. I have known my Darling Husband (DH) since I was 13 and he was 14. Please, do not be alarmed. We have not been together that entire time. Instead, we Harry and Sally-ed it until our 30s, when we realized that when you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right now. So, we did. Of course, us being us, we had to start on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t planned, I swear.

Until it became the anniversary of our relationship, I actually loathed this day of drippy candy hearts and generic red flowers. My worst V-Day — and I had a variety to choose from — was when I was stood up for a blind date on the Queen Mary. Bright side, there was an Indiana Jones convention happening on another floor. Attractive men dressed as Herr Jones, whip and all, mingled with women in 1940s-era dresses. Surreal, but true.

Your doctor will consider your particular viagra online from canada situation to determine which medication might work best. Hyperactivity http://niksautosalon.com/?p=1 buy cialis canada can be a illness seen as an damaged brain function. It is quite worrisome how our lifestyle has changed the life of numerous people who were experiencing the issues like erectile dysfunction are really hard to get over and are totally order cheap viagra crazy about each other. Deca is a common steroid used in multiple stacks, by bodybuilders of all ages and brand viagra canada genders, but its medicinal properties are particularly beneficial for men. Anywhoo, over the 20-or-so years I’ve known my DH, certain songs have become associated with him, with us. One of my most cherished memories is of slow dancing — me at 16, him at 17 — in the living room of his home. He was the first person I knew to have a CD player with a multiple CD changer. Among the cuts by Sting and Tracey Chapman was this tune: “Something So Right” by Paul Simon. I remember the feel of his arms, the warmth of the room, the beauty of the fall sunlight streaming through the window. It was the day after our first, perfect, leaving-you-lighter-than-air kiss. “Something goes wrong, I’m the first to admit it. First to admit it, last one to know. Something goes right, it’s likely to lose me, apt to confuse me ’cause it’s such an unusual sight. I swear I can’t, can’t get used to something so right….” It would be more than 15 years until, as friends, we would dance to this in the living room of my one-bedroom apartment. It would be the start of me and him having an idea of becoming us.

Before that happened, though, there were the years when friendship was all we had. Back then, I would hear Gretchen Peter’s “Bus to St. Cloud” (usually sung by Trisha Yearwood) and think of all the things that could have been. The first time I heard this song was post-college. Gretchen Peter was at the Key West Songwriting Festival and I interviewed her for the Key West Citizen. I had sent my DH a letter laying my heart on the line. He kindly called and, well, broke it. Not on purpose. He did it gently and honorably, but it hurt. He was in a committed relationship to someone else. We parted the conversation as friends, and I put my love and hopes for a life with him in a box and locked it away. “And it’s strange, but it’s true, you just slipped out of view like a face in the crowd on a bus to St. Cloud….” I did such a good job of throwing away the key that when my DH did finally make a romantic move, it didn’t occur to me that he was trying to reach beyond what we had been for years.

Which is how we arrive at The Commodore’s “Brick House.” I know that it doesn’t seem like the most romantic of songs, but for me it conjures up a Valentine’s Day in 2004, when I joined my DH for his college reunion dinner/dance. I had been at an Orange County Romance Writers of America meeting and knew he was in town. Forgetting it was V-Day (I know, you’d think with the RWA meeting, I would remember, but it was about writing craft, not love stories), I called him and left a message asking if he would like to go to dinner. He answered right as I was going home. The rubber chicken reunion dinner set me back about $75. Best money I ever spent. “Brick House” was among the songs the DJ played on the dance floor that night. Something about flirting with him during that song… well one thing led to another. “She’s mighty, mighty, letting it all hang out….” What I can say, gentle reader. That song still makes me happy and makes me blush.

You would think having known someone for almost two decades (now, more than) would mean there would be few surprises. How could I have missed that my DH is as big a fan of the Muppets as I am! “Moving Right Along” was the second song played at the reception to our Muppet-themed wedding. “We’re movin’ right along. Footloose and fancy free. Getting there is half the fun, come share it with me. Movin’ right along. We’ll learn to share the load. We don’t need a map to keep this show on the road….” He’s Kermie. I’m more Fozzie (Wocka, Wocka.) Please do not insert the Miss Piggy jokes. I have my hi-ya on stand by. This is a song about two friends who decide to go on an adventure together. What’s love (and now parenthood) other than a grand adventure!

The song we danced our first dance to at our wedding was Johnny Hartman’s rendition of “I’m Glad There is You.” When my DH and I crossed that line from being friends to being lovers, from being single to being partners, it felt like coming home. Every day, I try to tell him how very lucky I feel that we’re together. “I’m so glad you married me,” I tell him. He says the same to me. This year marks our 8th “together” anniversary and our sixth (in May) wedding anniversary. Next week, our greatest collaboration, the Z-baby, will turn 3. I love him more with every passing year. “In this world where many, many play at love, and hardly any stay in love, I’m glad there is you. More than ever, I’m glad there is you….”

Happy Valentine’s Day, Honey.

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